


A Drop in the Ocean

by pennyofthewild



Category: Free!
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Fantasy AU, Future-fic, Gen, Haruka is an author, Multi, depiction of terminal illness, in-universe writing, nongraphic depiction of chronic illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyofthewild/pseuds/pennyofthewild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[“And he says I’m the romantic one,” Rin mock-grumbles, and sets the suitcase down. “We’re going to be on the road by seven,” he says, “Gou will be over to pick us up; Seijuurou will be driving.”]</p><p>The year they are twenty-four, Haruka writes a picture book, a light novel, climbs Mount Fuji, makes several wishes, and discovers Rin all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drop in the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Paragraphs in [block paranthesis] are excerpts from Haruka's light novel.
> 
> Numbered paragraphs are the in-universe narrative, in chronological order, but not necessarily with the same time span in between passages.
> 
> This is mostly a self-indulgent piece. -I'm not really an angst-type of person, so be prepared for a lot of cavity-inducing fluff. -also. I adore Rin, and you should, too.

[Once upon a time – no, not that long ago – a little while ago – there was a little boy who lived in the ocean and his name was Haruka.

Not a good start you say? It’s alright: let’s start over, and let me take you there, to the ocean where Haruka still lives, and let me tell you a story that might, at times, be new and different, and, at other times, not very strange at all.]

 

***

 

1.

“Haru,” Rin calls, and Haruka hears Rin’s measured (but still hurried, somehow) steps coming up the hall, “I’m home!”

Haruka takes a deep breath and sits up straighter in his chair – so that he isn’t hunched over his desk – moments before the door to his office-room is opened and Rin appears in the doorway, arms crossed and he leans against the doorjamb in his black trousers and tucked-in white shirt – both of which are still immaculately pressed, despite what has been a long, exacting day at work, judging by the weariness in his eyes, which narrow when he sees Haruka seated at his desk.

“Have you been cooped up in here all day?”

Haruka says, “I’m working,” and Rin huffs, but the sound is fond.

“Sure,” he says, “writing again, so soon? You haven’t eaten, have you?”

The tatami mats rustle as Rin steps into the room; Haruka stretches, his muscles protesting at being held in one position for far too long. “What time is it?” he asks; Rin leans over the back of Haruka’s chair, his hands on Haruka’s shoulders; his palms are almost hot, and Haruka feels a burst of warmth spread across his back.

“Five-thirty,” Rin says, his hair brushing against Haruka’s cheek, “what’re you writing this time? It was a children’s book time last time – _The Lonely Firefly_? I liked that one.” He reaches for the papers strewn across the desk; Haruka grasps his wrist.

“There isn’t much to see, yet,” he says, when Rin’s face falls, “it’s a short story; I want you to see it when it’s done.”

Up close, Haruka can see the premature worry-lines creasing Rin’s forehead and the mass of guilt lodged beneath his ribs grows; Rin looks at him for a good moment and then he straightens, ruffles Haruka’s hair – a habit he picked up when, the first time he did so, Haruka remembered to object too late – and says,

“Okay, that’s fine,” he smiles, “I got you food: there’s mackerel. Come eat and hey – ” he says, when Haruka turns, to stand, “I got us a year’s membership at a twenty-four hour gym: it’s a ten-minute train-ride away from here and it’s got an Olympic-sized swimming pool – ah – ” Rin staggers, his breath leaving his chest in a ‘whoosh’, because Haruka has sprung up from his chair and thrown his arms around Rin’s neck and nearly crushing him – in a rare moment where he, instead of Rin, instigates an act of physical affection.

“God, Haru,” Rin says, winding his arms around Haruka’s back, “I’m sorry it took so – ”

Haruka breathes, “thank you, Rin,” and Rin falls silent; Haruka feels Rin’s arms tighten around him and the tension leaves Rin’s body and he lowers his head onto Haruka’s shoulder.

 

***

 

[Growing up, all Haruka can think about is swimming beyond the confines of his colony’s borders, out into open ocean, up to the surface and maybe even higher, to the sky:

“Why?” his pod-mates say when Haruka voices this thought aloud, “why would you want to leave the safety of a community?” and when Haruka tries to explain, “I’d like to swim free,” no-one seems to want to understand –

-and so, when Haruka is ten years old he swims away from his pod and does not look back once, and he welcomes the rush of water against his skin (that somehow feels different, even though it is the same water it has always been) and turns every day into a new adventure, exploring new places, poking and prodding to his heart’s content: and racing the fish bold enough to challenge him (bold, because he is a Dolphin) – some are slow, and some are fast, and when he races a Marlin called Seijuuro he tastes defeat for the first time:

\- and he makes friends, too, with Makoto, a killer whale (who ought to be called a ‘gentle whale’, in Haruka’s opinion) and Nagisa, a Seal, and Rei, a butterfly ray, and in all this time he does not swim to the surface, for reasons he can’t quite understand, but there is a nagging, repetitive notion in the back of his mind that there is something yet he hasn’t seen and he can’t quite feel satisfied? fulfilled? till he has seen it:

\- so when Makoto asks, “are you happy, Haru-chan?”, Haruka says,

“I don’t know,” and finds that that is the truth.]

 

***

 

2.

Rin sees Makoto on his way home from work, the next day. Makoto has shadows under his eyes and the whites are bloodshot, and when Rin hugs him he can hear Makoto’s breath hitch.

“How is he?” Makoto asks, when they part, his hands sliding from Rin’s shoulders to his arms, his fingers curling, almost painfully, into Rin’s biceps.

“He misses you,” Rin says, because it is the most relevant point, “you should come see him, sometime. It isn’t that difficult: you both live where you’ve always lived.”

Makoto closes his eyes, shakes his head, “I – I can’t do that, Rin – I’m – ” he trails off and looks away, leaving the last word unsaid, but if Rin had to guess, he supposes the word would’ve been ‘terrified’.

“He misses you,” Rin repeats, and watches Makoto’s eyes glisten; when Makoto speaks his voice is soft, choked,

“I know,” he says, and Rin watches his tears fall.

 

***

 

[The day that Haruka finally sets out for the surface is a week after Makoto asks,

“are you happy, Haru-chan?”,

\- and when Haruka’s head breaks water it is to a clear, blue sky littered with feathery white clouds, and for a moment, Haruka just stares up at it – the sky – in speechless rapture, because he’s seen it before, on days the ocean is stiller than a glass mirror, but now that he is closer it is farther than it has ever been, and that is how Haruka learns that some things are always unattainable.]

 

***

 

3.

Haruka taps his foot against the side of his desk, sighs, and puts his pen down, reaching for a blank, unlined sheet of paper and his mechanical pencil.

Words have never come easily to him, and when the block gets particularly worse Haruka sketches, till it goes away.

Rin said, “do a picture book again, like last time,” when Haruka told him about the block, the previous evening, but Haruka insisted,

“I want to write a light novel,” and Rin had sighed, bit his tongue, and tried to resist the urge to remind Haruka that the release date for _The Lonely Firefly_ is still a month away and he doesn’t have to work so hard: there’s no need to rush –

Haruka had said, “Rin, I _want_ to,” and Rin had looked at him from his position in the middle of the room, shirtsleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned and tie loose, hands on his (narrow) hips and said,

“Okay,” and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger (the other hand still on his hip) and said, “okay,” again, as if to convince himself that it was –

Now, Haruka, pencil held loosely in his hand, finds himself forming an oval in a broad, sweeping stroke, narrow at one end, and he pencils in a heart-shaped hairline at the other end, the widow’s peak slightly off-center – and eyes, large and turned up, at the edges; the nose is neither small nor large, the cheekbones are high, open, and the mouth is (in Haruka’s opinion) far too given to frowning but Haruka draws in a smile:

-and Rin is looking out at him from the paper, and Haruka feels a smile tug at the corners of his own mouth.

Later, when Rin comes home and is sitting at the kitchen table, eyebrows drawn and voice thick with frustration as he fumes, “and he didn’t even _look_ at the report I’d written, can you believe that? – he said he’d send in another team to evaluate the situation as if _I’m incompetent_ – ”

Haruka slides the drawing onto the table in front of Rin and walks over to the cupboard to retrieve Rin’s coffee mug (it is white, with a gray tiger shark and the words ‘ _Talk and I’ll Bite_ ’ in big, bold English letters scrawled onto it); when he turns back Rin is still, quiet, and he is looking down at the sketch, lips drawn in; he looks up under the weight of Haruka’s gaze and Haruka says,

“I think I’d like to paint you, sometime, instead of just a crappy sketch like this one.”

Rin gives him a furious look and growls, “ _Don’t_ call your work crappy,” and Haruka tells him,

“You’re not incompetent,” and he sets Rin’s coffee on the table and taps his fingers against Rin’s temple and adds, “It’s better when you smile,” and so Rin, reaching up and catching Haruka’s hand in his own, does.

 

***

 

[Land, Haruka discovers, is very different from the picture Nagisa had painted it to be: it is dry, and rocky, and after several moments of trying to find a comfortable position on the shore Haruka gives up and slides back into the water, the coolness a welcome balm to his bruised skin.

Several meters further north from the rocky stretch, however, he finds sand, gold and fine, just like at the bottom of the sea (but less … damp), and he realizes this must be what Nagisa meant, and he is picking up an empty seashell off the beach when he hears a strange, rhythmic sound, as if someone is repeatedly shifting the sand, and he slips, panicked, into the ocean.

Looking up, he can see a figure approach the water. He is built like Haruka from the head to the waist, but where his tail should be, there are two long, pale legs, and his hair is a dark red.

Haruka watches as the boy bends, the motion focused primarily at his waist and knees – and it looks distinctly uncomfortable – and reaches into the sand to pick up – a sand dollar, with a cord through the top; Haruka lifts his hand, automatically, to his neck, where his necklace ought to be, and his fingers come up empty; Haruka surfaces, in a surge of alarm, calling out,

“That’s mine,” before he’s thought (and without taking into consideration the very probable possibility that he will not be understood).

The boy freezes, as if he’s been shocked by an electric ray, Haruka’s sand dollar dangling from his fingers.

“Yours?” he repeats, and Haruka nods emphatically.

“Okay,” the boy says, “okay,” and then, “here,” and he holds the necklace out, the cord hooked over his fingers, and Haruka beats his tail, propelling himself forward in a single, powerful movement, and snatches the necklace away.

“Ouch,” the boy yelps, “that hurt,” and he sticks his fingers into his mouth, giving Haruka an accusing glare. “You didn’t have to grab at it so hard!” His eyes widen, then, and he leans over, placing his hands squarely on his knees, hair falling forward.

“Hey,” the boy says, “is that a tail?”]

 

***

 

4.

 A lot of the time, when they go to a pool together, Rin likes to watch Haruka swim – mostly because he does much of his own swimming during training hours, in the morning, and also because watching Haruka swim is kind of like meditating, and calms Rin down – at least, until Haruka gets tired of being watched so intently and asks, in the same flat tone he’s always used he is feeling particularly irritated,

“Are you going to swim or _not_?”, whereupon Rin strips down to his legskins and dives in.

“Still five degrees off,” Haruka says, teasingly, when Rin surfaces, and Rin, treading water, tells him,

“As long as I win, it doesn’t matter,” only half-seriously, because they both know that there are so many things that matter so much more than winning.

 

***

 

[Rin, as Haruka soon discovers the red-haired boy’s name is, turns out to be an excellent swimmer – for a human – not that this stops him from trying to race Haruka at every possible opportunity, and although, at first, his speed leaves something to be desired, soon enough, he becomes enough of a challenge to set Haruka’s heart racing and a thrill of adrenaline throbbing through Haruka’s blood when he is racing him: but more than that, there is an energy, in the water, that pulsates through to Haruka that isn’t present when Rin is not there, even when, instead of racing, they float on their backs, Rin’s legskin-covered legs a strange contrast to the pale, white underbelly of Haruka’s tail.

Sometimes, they don’t swim at all, but talk, Rin sitting on the beach with his jeans rolled up to his knees and his feet in the water while Haruka sets his elbows on the sand and his chin in his hands, his tail centimeters from Rin’s toes, listening intently while Rin talks about,

“The relay team at my school,” and how he feels “as if they’re trying to hold me back,”

-and other times, Rin will say, “tell me about where you grew up,” and fix his sparkling crimson eyes on Haruka’s face while Haruka describes the

“Red coral around the reef, where I lived with Makoto and Nagisa and Rei,” and “the Marlin I once raced who was faster than one of those trains you told me about (which, of course, is a gross exaggeration),” till Rin will ask, pensively,

“Do you miss it?”

And Haruka, when he thinks about it, is surprised to find, “sometimes, but mostly, no.”]

 

***

 

5.1 

Rin comes home one Friday afternoon with a smile on his face and a suitcase in hand.

“I’ve taken Monday off, next week,” he announces, “so we’re gonna go out, somewhere, and _don’t_ bring your manuscript with you; you aren’t allowed to work,” and Haruka looks up at him (in their last year of high school, Rin grew another inch and a half, effectively surpassing Haruka in terms of height) and asks,

“What about your training?,” because Rin is looking to win another medal in addition to the two that hang, framed, on their living room wall.

“A few days off never hurt anybody,” Rin tells him, and flashes Haruka a sharp-toothed grin; the mass of guilt expands further. Rin brushes past Haruka, further into the hall. “This is going to be a proper trip, Haru-chan – I wish I could take you abroad, but alas, a poor salary-man like me can’t afford such expensive things.”

Haruka gives him a one-armed hug, leaning into Rin’s shoulder, “being as you’re my poor salary-man, expensive things are completely unnecessary.”

“And he says I’m the romantic one,” Rin mock-grumbles, and sets the suitcase down. “We’re going to be on the road by seven,” he says, “Gou will be over to pick us up; Seijuurou will be driving.”

Haruka raises his eyebrows; Rin grins and shrugs. “Poor salary-man, remember? I’m cutting down on transportation costs.”

“Where are we going?” Haruka follows Rin into the bedroom, where Rin is already rifling through Haruka’s clothes and throwing probable outfits onto the bed.

“Stop, stop,” Haruka says, and sweeps everything into his arms, carrying it to the closet, “move over,” and he hangs everything back. “Slow down, Rin,” Haruka continues, and pulls out three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and his pajamas. “Here, these are enough,” and Rin tells him,

“You’re going to need a jacket,” and Haruka lifts an eyebrow.

“Why, are we climbing Fuji-san?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Rin says flippantly. “Yes. You think you’re up for it?”

“I’d be a fool not to be, wouldn’t I?” Haruka tells him, and packs a jacket.

 

***

 

[“I want to be an Olympic swimmer,” Rin says one day, after they have swum several miles and his arms are aching with fatigue, and Haruka gives him a blank look.

“What?” he asks, and Rin gives a short laugh. He is thirteen years old, now, and there is a slight break, sometimes, at the ends of his sentences.

“What, don’t you have organized racing competitions under the sea? You certainly swim fast enough.”

“We only swim free,” Haruka says, and Rin laughs again.

“Of course you do,” he says, and lapses into silence, picking at the jacket he’s draped around his shoulders to stave off the cold. Haruka waits for him to continue; when he doesn’t, Haruka prods his shoulder.

“What is an Olympic?” Haruka repeats, and Rin shoots him a bemused look.

“The _Olympics_ ,” he says loftily, “is an international athletic competition where athletes from different countries and in different disciplines compete for medals, and swimming is one of the events.” He sounds as though he is reciting a passage from memory, Haruka thinks, and Rin continues, “and people who compete – and win – in the Olympics are called _Olympians_.”

He looks expectantly at Haruka, as if waiting for a response, and Haruka stares impassively back, until Rin says, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, what do you think?” Rin crosses his arms.

“Oh,” Haruka breathes out slowly, “but you’re a really good swimmer. The water loves you. Why – ”

“Because it was my father’s dream,” Rin says suddenly – almost spits – and he stands, in one fluid motion, his face contorted into a scowl.

“Whatever,” he snaps, “it’s not like you would understand, anyway,” and Haruka watches as he turns and walks away.]

 

***

 

5.3

Seijuuro, when Haruka greets him, gives him a hug and a “ _how’re you feeling_ ,” to which Haruka replies, “ _fine, thank you_ ,” and settles into the backseat of the car – a black Toyota – and tries not to be amused at Gou and Rin, who are conducting an argument outside – something about the placement of luggage in the trunk, which is rapidly growing louder, in the manner of most sibling arguments, until Seijuuro steps in, putting an arm around Gou and using his ‘Captain’ voice to say something along the lines of

‘ _Keep this up and I’ll leave you both here_ ,’ which is a load of bull, of course, but serves as a reminder to Rin to _not to screw things up, please_.

Later, when Seijuuro has taken the exit onto the highway out of Iwatobi, Gou leans over the back of her chair and asks,

“What’s it like, living in the Nanase house, niisan? Isn’t the commute to Tottori a good half-hour?”

Rin shrugs. “I’ve gotten used to the commute,” he says, and then he smiles – which Haruka catches in between flashes of the streetlamps lining the road, throwing their faces into sharp planes of light and dark, “and besides: I used to spend so much time sleeping over at Haru’s in middle school going back there felt like coming home.”

 

***

 

[When Rin comes back a week later, Haruka is not there. He stands at the edge of the beach for several moments, where sea meets sand, letting the water wash over his toes and the backs of his feet, and then he turns to leave, but he’s barely taken two steps when somebody says,

“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” and Rin turns to find Haruka pulling himself out of the water and onto the sand.

Rin looks at him a long moment, at the dark hair and the sun-kissed skin, the speckled blue-and-gray tail, grainy with sand, the sand dollar around his neck and the fathomless blue eyes, which, at this very moment, seem a little wry and a little fond, and very bemused.

“Why are you still here, then?” Rin asks, lowering himself onto the ground, awash with relief, and Haruka smiles.

“Because I hoped you would.”]

 

***

 

5.4

They arrive at Kyoto at ten in the evening. Seijuuro pulls into the parking – underground – by the hotel he’s made reservations at, for the night.

“Check-out is at ten in the morning,” he says, as they walk into the lobby, bags in hand, “so if I were you, I’d get a good night’s rest.” He yawns; Gou attempts to take one of the bags he’s carrying from him and fails. “I’m fine,” he tells her, “but I’m leaving the desk stuff to you because I can’t think straight,” and he ushers them over to the reception desk, where Gou collects their keys.

“This is yours,” she hands Rin one of the keys, when they are in the elevator, “you guys are just across the hall from Sei-chan and me, so if you need anything, shout and we’ll be right over.”

“They’ve got cell-phones, Gou-kun,” Seijuuro says, and yawns another ear-splitting yawn. Haruka notes, absently, that it’s been a while since Gou stopped trying to get Seijuurou to call her ‘Kou-chan’ instead of ‘Gou-kun’. Being married to someone for over a year could do that, he supposes.

“It was a figure of speech,” Gou smacks the side of her fist into his arm; Seijuuro looks down at her.

“I’d say ouch,” he assures her, “but I’m too tired,” and Gou says,

“It didn’t hurt at all, did it?,” a little worriedly, as if she’s afraid it actually did.

The elevator dings, then, and the doors slide open; across the corridor, there is a gold placard stating that they are on the fifth floor. The trek down the hallway is quiet, apart from the muffled sounds of their feet on the carpet and their breathing; five doors down they come to their rooms, and Rin sets their suitcase down with a thud.

“You should’ve let me carry it,” Haruka tells him as Rin slides the key into the lock. Across the hall, Gou shuts the door to the other room with a slight click.

“It’s fine,” Rin says, pushing the door open. There is a lamp on the desk that is illuminating the room; inside, there are two twin-sized beds with the covers turned invitingly down; Haruka looks around at the patterned walls and the picture frames hung up over the beds.

“Poor salary-man?” Haruka asks wryly.

“I can’t quite decide if that’s supposed to be grateful or not,” Rin tells him, pulling his pajamas from the suitcase and going in the direction of the bathroom, “just – go to sleep, Haru, for God’s sake, okay?”

The mattress, Haruka decides, is too soft; he lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, the sound of traffic drifting up from the street, wondering what he should have said instead.

 

***

 

[The tournament season is a little less than two months away when Rin says, “I wish you could swim in the relay with me.” He is aimlessly drawing patterns into the sand, eyes cast down. “We need four people and we’ve only got three: and if you swam, we’d be sure to win.”

Haruka frowns. “I can’t swim in one of your human races,” he states, “and besides, I only – ”

“Swim free,” Rin cuts him off, and then, giving Haruka a beseeching look, says, “it’s really important to me.”

“So?” Haruka’s frown deepens, “what am I supposed to do if it’s important to you?”

“You’re my friend, aren’t you?” Rin tilts his head to the side, “you could try to help.”

Haruka blinks. “And you think the best way to help you would be to become the fourth person in your relay?”

Rin sighs. “Forget it,” he says, “it was a stupid thing to say out loud.”]

 

***

 

5.6

Haruka shakes Rin awake at nine thirty.

“Rin,” he says, “Rin, wake up; we’re going to be late,” and withdraws when Rin sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Haruka?” Rin’s voice is still hoarse with tiredness; his hair is sticking up in the back like a duckling’s feathers (but instead, it is red, not yellow), “what time is it?”

“Nine-thirty,” Haruka tells him, putting his toothbrush away, “you’ve got time to shower, if you hurry.”

Rin swings his feet over the side of the bed and stands, running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re the last person to tell me to hurry up while showering,” he grumbles, and Haruka suppresses a smile.

 

***

 

[“Obaasama,” Haruka calls softly, just outside the Catfish Lady’s cave, and a moment later a rush of bubbles erupts from the depths of the cave and the Catfish Lady appears at the mouth, her white hair floating in a cloud around her lined face. Her skin is papery and her nose has nearly disappeared into a mass of wrinkles, but her eyes are sharp and her smile, while nearly toothless, is gentle. Her barbels reach out, brushing against Haruka’s face.

“Haruka, is it?” she says, “what is it, child?”

“I came to ask you a favor, obaasama,” Haruka says, swimming closer, “I’d like for you to give me a pair of legs.”]

 

***

 

5.7

They are in the car again by twelve o clock, the luggage in the back, Seijuuro in the driver’s seat looking absolutely rejuvenated after breakfast from a street stand (where he and Rin had an impromptu eating contest, which Seijuuro won).

“Well, kids,” he says, and Haruka sees Rin roll his eyes, “this is it. We ought to be at the Sengen Shrine at five – we’ll eat and pray there and then it’s up Fuji-san we go!”

“Sei-chan,” Gou says, laying a hand on his arm, “slow down.”

“My dear Gou-kun,” her husband exclaims, “if we’re not at the summit before sunrise, climbing Fuji-san will be useless!”

Haruka sets his head against the window, tuning out their conversation; he watches the jump-skip-jump of the telephone wires as the car zips past.

Rin leans over, setting a hand on Haruka’s shoulder and whispers, “Haru, you okay?” The creases between his eyebrows are deeper; Haruka nods.

“I’m fine,” he says, “never been better,” and he presses against Rin’s forehead with the pad of his thumb till the creases fade. “I’m fine,” Haruka repeats, and Rin nods slowly and sits back.

“Let me know if – ” he bites his lip; Haruka smiles.

“I will,” he says, “don’t worry so much,” and he wraps his fingers around Rin’s hand, his thumb against the pulse point in Rin’s wrist.

“Your hand is cold,” Rin mutters, and he leans back against the headrest, eyes fluttering shut, lashes casting shadows over his cheeks and his breathing evens out.

Later, when Gou turns around and says, “Niisan – ”, Haruka puts his finger to his mouth and whispers,

“Ssh,” because Rin’s head has dropped onto Haruka’s shoulder and he is very much asleep.

Gou smiles: and then she pulls her phone out of her purse and snaps a picture.

 

***

 

[Arriving at the beach early one morning – the sun has barely begun to rise – Rin finds a huddled shape lying on the sand; the figure has a mop of black hair and Rin, panicked, picks up his pace – until he is nearly running.

“Haru!” he calls, “is that – oh my God – ” He stops short, eyes widening, and drops to his knees in the sand.

Haruka is curled up on his side, his legs – _his legs_ – drawn up to his chest, his arms wound around his knees, and when Rin reaches out, gingerly, to touch his shoulder, Haruka stirs, and turns, lifting his eyes to Rin’s face.

“Hey,” he rasps, “I can swim in your relay now,” and Rin sheds his jacket, draping it over Haruka’s shoulders.

“God, Haruka,” Rin says, “what did you _do_?” and he stuffs Haruka’s arms into the jacket’s sleeves, pulling the zip up to Haruka’s chin.

“The Catfish Lady gave me a spell,” Haruka’s voice is still hoarse, but even, as if going to Catfish Ladies for spells is everyday business.

“Come on, let’s get you up,” Rin says, deciding to take things one at a time, “have you tried walking?”

“No,” Haruka shakes his head, “when you called I’d just got here,” and Rin, recalling the way he’d found him, wonders.

“Alright,” he says, sliding an arm around Haruka’s shoulders, “here, I’ll help you,” and together, they get Haruka into a standing position; his knees wobble and he bites his lip.

“Lift your foot and step forward,” Rin instructs, and when Haruka does, he staggers and pales.

“Oh,” he says, and his fingers clutch at Rin’s arms, “is it supposed to hurt like this?”

Rin gives him a perturbed look. “Hurt? Walking?  No – maybe it’s because you’re not used to it, yet.”

 _It feels like I’m stepping on broken glass_ , Haruka begins to say, but Rin’s face is suddenly bright and animated, and he is saying,

“I don’t know what you did, Haru, but this is amazing: I know the perfect place for you to stay at and we’ve got a month to turn you into a relay swimmer: it’s going to be great – ”

-and he sounds so _excited_ Haruka can’t bring himself to crush his hopes.]

 

***

 

5.9

When Rin wakes up, his cheek is pressed against someone’s denim-covered knee, the weave rough against his skin. The car has stopped, and outside, there are voices, and the clatter of a trunk being hefted open.

There are fingers carding through his hair; the fingertips are cool, and he can hear the faint, rhythmic sound of someone humming under their breath. There is a strong scent of mint in the air.

“Haru?” Rin’s voice grates, as if from an extended period of disuse; his eyelids are gummy and it takes a moment for him to focus on Haruka’s face.

“Rise and shine, Rin-chan,” Haruka says, and the ‘Rin-chan’ has not grown any less irritating than it once was, so Rin scowls automatically.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” he mutters, but it’s difficult to stay angry at Haruka for long: not when he is smiling, and his hands are still in Rin’s hair.

“This is why you should sleep at night,” Haruka tells him, his tone half-parts chiding and knowing, “you told me you were off work.”

Rin’s mouth says, “it was an emergency,” and his eyes say, “don’t ask for details, Haru, please,” and thankfully, Haruka does not press the issue further, and then Seijuuro pulls the car door open.

“Up, up,” he gives Rin his signature Aquafresh-ad smile, “Gou’s gone to get tempura – yes, there is mackerel, Haruka, we asked – so come on out and stretch your legs till it’s time to eat.”

“You need to have kids already,” Rin grumbles, sitting up and sliding out of the car, “so that you have somebody besides me to baby,” and neatly avoids Seijuuro’s mild-humored fist with a duck and a, “getting slow, old man.”

Seijuuro protests, weakly, that he’s barely twenty-five and nowhere _close_ to being an old man.

Rin watches Haruka stretch and wince as he gets out; out of the corner of his eye he can see Seijuuro’s mouth set; he’s noticed, too, Rin can tell:

Haruka says, “I’m not a museum exhibit,” and raises his eyebrows; Rin forces a laugh, and is (thankfully) spared a reply by Gou’s return. She is carrying a plastic bag with the bento stacked neatly inside and she brings a smile and a,

“I hope you’re all hungry because I promise these are amazing,” and she hands out the food and playfully swats Haruka when he complains _why isn’t there more mackerel, Gou-chan_?

The food _is_ amazing, Rin thinks, and when they’ve packed the leftovers away and are walking towards the shrine, Seijuuro offering random bits of trivia about Sengen, the patron deity, and the shrine’s architectural merit, Rin looks over at Haruka and finds he isn’t wincing anymore (and feels a tiny bit of relief) and then he nudges Haruka in the ribs till Haruka looks back.

“Know what you’re going to pray for?” he asks, as they reach the top of the shrine’s steps, and Haruka nods and says, “Don’t you?,” before he bends his head over his clasped hands as if that is a perfectly acceptable response.

 

***

 

[Climbing stairs, Haruka discovers, is just as bad as level ground: each step is excruciatingly painful, and Haruka is dizzy and lightheaded by the time Rin leads him up to the door of a house. The residence’s signboard reads _Nanase_ , and as they draw closer, Haruka catches sight of a bit of white paper taped to the door.

“Nobody lives here,” Rin explains, “there used to be a family – that’s their name – ,” and he points to the _‘Nanase’_ , “but their boy drowned when he was five and they moved away, to Tottori City.” He gives Haruka a side-long look, a devilish sparkle in the depths of his eyes, “when I was growing up we used to tell stories about how the boy didn’t drown: he actually dove into the ocean and became a sea-creature,” he raises his eyebrows, “maybe that’s you, huh, Haru?”

“I was _born_ in the ocean,” Haruka tells him, grateful that, when he is standing still, his feet hurt less, and Rin laughs.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “I was just teasing,” and he leans down, flipping the doormat over and retrieving a small silver object – a key – and stuffs it into the lock. The sign, Haruka can now see, reads,

 _If you need a place to stay, the key is under the mat_ , and then Rin pushes the door open and steps over the threshold, beckoning for Haruka to follow.

“I’ll get you some clothes from my closet; we’re about the same size,” Rin says, after he has pointed out things like light switches, and plugged in the refrigerator and other ‘household appliances’, “and food, too, and we’ll put it in the ‘fridge.”

The excited look is back, Haruka notes; Rin is practically shaking with enthusiasm, “and when you’re settled in, we’ll see about getting you into the relay team!”

After he leaves, promising to return with the clothes and food, Haruka stumbles into the bathroom, fills the bathtub up to the brim, and slides into the water, drawing his knees up to his chest and leaning back, the Catfish Lady’s voice echoing in his head.

 _You’ve only got a month_ , she had said, _and then the change will be permanent. Choose wisely, child_.]

 

***

                              

6\.  

They are at the summit at a quarter to five. Somewhere up the mountain Haruka went from having his jacket tied around his waist to wearing it with the hood fastened securely under his chin and his hands stuffed in the wool-lined pockets: and yet he is still cold.

It is September, past the peak season, and they didn’t encounter very many climbers on the trail, and now, at the peak, they are almost the only people there. It is half-an-hour to sunrise, the sky is still dark, black-blue scattered with tiny white pinpricks, and Haruka stands under the torii gate and looks out over the sea of cedar trees creeping up the mountainside like waves washing up on a rocky shore, his breath hanging in a cloud of mist around his face.

There is a low breeze whistling through the cedar trees, mournful and slow. The air is cold, bracing, and every time Haruka inhales it burns his nose, his throat, his chest.

He hears the crunch of footsteps on gravel and Rin appears, nose red (and hood still stubbornly down), carrying two foam cups, steam rising off the tops.

“Coffee, from Gou,” Rin says, and although he is speaking as he usually does he sounds strangely quiet, Haruka thinks, as Rin hands him one of the cups. Haruka wraps his hands around it, welcoming the warmth that seeps through the cup to his fingers.

They stand quietly for several moments, shoulders touching, looking over at the horizon, where a lighter streak of blue has appeared at the edge of the dark.

“We made it,” Haruka says softly, breaking the silence, and Rin looks over at him, eyebrows quizzical. “I made it,” Haruka amends, breathing in the scent of the cedars, the coffee, and the cold, “I didn’t think – ”

“Since when,” Rin’s anger sounds vaguely disruptive, where they are, “have you ever doubted your ability to do anything?” He takes a deep breath, eyebrows furrowed into one red line, “you’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re here, look at you, climbed Fujiyama in less than ten hours and you’re standing right here – with me - you’re okay: look at you: _you’re okay_ –” He breaks off, looking away, and Haruka sees him blink, once, twice, and then he swipes his hand across his face, furiously.

Haruka reaches out, slipping his fingers into the crook of Rin’s elbow and pressing down. “Crying?” he asks, and Rin gives him a bright-eyed glare.

“M’not,” he mutters, and behind his head, the light blue is shot with pink-yellow, that expands, slowly, upwards.

Haruka says, “sorry,” and Rin tells him,

“Don’t be,” and is quiet for a moment before, “it’s just – when you say things like that – ” he bites his lip, “just – don’t, okay? Don’t.”

“Okay,” Haruka sips at his rapidly-cooling coffee. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good,” Haruka hears Rin swallow, “good,” and he sighs, heavily, leaning further into Haruka’s shoulder, the wind snatching his misted-up breath away –

-and together, they watch the sun rise.

 

***

 

[Later, when he thinks back to it, Rin will be surprised at how – not-complicated – it was to have Haruka join the relay team, and then he will think that maybe, it’s because people tend to block out unpleasant, or difficult memories, because later, when Rin thinks back to it, all he will remember is how effortlessly Haruka took to competitive swimming – like a fish to water, really – perfecting the dive off the starting block with such ease that, at the time, Rin didn’t know whether to be jealous or relieved (or awed at what it felt like, to hit the marker at the end of the lane and watch Haruka lea-ap up and above and slice cleanly, through the surface) –

 -and so he decided, like he did with most things, to just take it in stride, because there would be time enough for puzzling out what he was feeling later.]

 

***

 

7.

Two weeks after the trip down from Mount Fuji, Rin comes home to find Haruka slumped over his desk. He is deathly still and his breathing and pulse are so weak for a moment, Rin stands, in frozen disbelief, before the panic kicks in and he is reaching for his phone, thumbing through his speed-dial menu with fumbling fingers, his heart beating in his ears and his vision fuzzy:

-and somehow, Rin makes it through the trip to the hospital, riding in the ambulance with Haruka on the stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped firmly to Haruka’s mouth and his eyes closed, unaware of Rin’s fingers wrapped tightly around his hand the prayer on Rin’s lips: _let him be_ okay - _let him be okay:_

Later, he is in the men’s waiting room, alone, sitting on one of the awful green chairs the hospital’s deemed fit for guests, his head against the chair’s back, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. The dizziness is gone but he can still feel his heart racing, and there is a lump in his throat that doesn’t seem to want to go away.

The door to the waiting room rattles, and Rei walks in, his scrubs uncharacteristically rumpled and his student ID card askew. He sits down delicately, on the edge of his seat, as if he’s afraid to lean back.

“My dad says Haruka-senpai’s okay, for now,” Rei says finally, after what seems to be an eon of silence, and the pounding in Rin’s head eases, a little. “It was exhaustion, this time.” Rei adjusts his glasses. He isn’t looking at Rin, his eyes focused on his hands, clenched together between his knees.

“But – ” Rei takes a deep breath, “he also says Haruka-senpai is going to have to start chemo.”

Belatedly, Rin remembers Haruka was scheduled for an appointment a day from now. He says, “is – is that a bad thing?”

Rei sighs. “It’s a treatment therapy,” he states, “and like most treatment therapies, it has its benefits and its drawbacks – ”

“Is it going to fix him or not?” Rin’s voice is abnormally loud, to his ears, and also strangely unfamiliar. Rei raises his eyebrows, and Rin, realizing his hands have curled into fists, breathes out slowly, unclenching his fingers.

“I hope so,” Rei says, his voice soft, gentle. He makes to reach out, maybe touch Rin’s shoulder, but draws back, saying, “I hope it will,” and then he stands, adjusts the ID card and adds, “you can come see him, if you like,” and he leads Rin down the whitewashed, faintly-chemical-smelling corridors of the hospital to Haruka’s room.

Rei gives him a nod and a quiet, “see you later,” before making his way down the hall. Rin sees his shoulders hunch.

Rin enters gingerly, his shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. Inside, the room is dim, the shutters across the window drawn, late afternoon sunlight drifting in through the blinds.

Haruka is lying in the single bed, looking incredibly normal, for the most part; he is pale, and drawn, but there are no tubes or lines connecting him to any strange-looking machines and his breathing is even, regular.

The bed-sheets rustle as Rin hoists himself up, and his foot bumps into the metal frame and it clatters. Haruka stirs, opening his eyes.

“Sorry,” Rin mutters, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Haruka tells him, his voice weak but clear, “sorry for the trouble,” he says, and Rin feels the tell-tale prick of tears behind his eyes.

“Screw you,” he says, cupping Haruka’s face in his palm, his hand, browned from the sun, a stark contrast to the pallor of Haruka’s skin, a testament to too many hours spent indoors and only-at-night swim trips. Rin slides his fingers into Haruka’s hair. “Screw you.”

“To hell and back?” Haruka is smiling faintly, the little brat, and Rin wishes he didn’t look so _damned delicate_ , so he’d have an excuse to take him by the shoulders and _shake him_.

“To hell and _back_ ,” Rin repeats, “ _as long as there’s a back_ ,” and Haruka’s smile widens, just a little, the edges of his mouth curling outwards and up.

“There’s always a back, for us, Rin,” he says, and the lump in Rin’s throat shrinks some.

“Ryuugazaki-sensei said I could leave in the morning,” Haruka says then, “but he wanted to talk to you, before we left.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Rin promises.

“Did – did Rei tell you about the – ”

“He did.”

“Okay. – you – you don’t have to stay, Rin.”

“Shut up,” Rin stretches out on his side, his back lodged up against the railings around the mattress, setting an arm, carefully, across Haruka’s waist. “This is for my benefit, not yours.”

“Oh?” Rin’s eyes are closed, now, but he can hear the smile in Haruka’s voice. “Having nightmares, Rin-chan?”

“Oh, shut it,” Rin  says fondly, and thinks it’s worth the blow to his pride, to feel the slight tremor that echoes through the mattress and his arm, that means Haruka is laughing.

In the morning, after talking to Rei’s father, he allows Rei to drive them home, and then spends the afternoon reading up on chemotherapy.

 

***

 

[The day of the relay dawns bright and clear. Rin’s relay team arrives at the venue bright and early, and there is a slight mishap when, at the sign-in desk, the receptionist starts out looking for Haruka and Rin on the girls’ list.

The wait up to their turn is unbearably slow. Rin sits in the bleachers with his fingers crossed, his foot tapping almost unconsciously, against the floor. Haruka sits next to him, infuriatingly calm, and Rin reminds himself that he’s got a winning team, a champion team, and there’s no way they are losing today, not after the talk he’d given them in the locker rooms, not after he’d bared his heart and soul.

Lining up at the starting blocks, he can feel his heartbeat begin to pick up and he focuses on controlling his breathing and watching Sousuke warm up for his start.

Haruka says, “scared?”, his voice so low Rin barely catches the words, and the slight derision brings him back to himself, and his answer,

“Not on your life,” is steady and proud.

Sousuke lowers himself into the water, gripping the ladder with white knuckles as he waits for the signal. The buzzer goes off and Sousuke springs backward, surfacing with a series of smooth, powerful kicks, and then Rin is shouting encouragement, his voice ringing in his ears.

Aiichirou is up next, moving like quicksilver through the water, and before he knows it it’s Rin’s turn, and he is diving off the block – five degrees off, but it doesn’t matter – the water rushes up to welcome him in a blur of color and sound, and Rin is made a part of it, no longer a separate identity but an element of a cohesive whole, supported by the water, accepted by the water, and as he makes the turn he thinks,

 _This is what Haru meant_ –

-and there is a thrill of pure energy that sings through his veins when he slaps the flat of his hand against the block and watches Haruka soar above him, suspended in the air for one golden moment, and Rin feels as if he’s been connected to Haruka, too, and that the three of them: him, Haruka and the water are a single unit:

Haruka’s figure slashes through the water in a single, graceful movement, and in that instant, Rin knows they have already won.

It doesn’t really sink in, though, until they are standing in a line in front of the photographer, the trophy cradled in his arm, and when it does Rin throws his free arm around Haruka’s neck giddy with the excitement of _we’ve done it_ and that is how the camera catches him, eyes shut tight and smile so wide his cheeks hurt with the breadth of it.]

 

***

 

8.

Haruka sits on the hospital bed, bare feet dangling off the side, watching Ryuugazaki-sensei walk around to his desk and sit down, making a final note on his clipboard. Haruka catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror: washed out skin, bony wrists and ankles,  sunken eyes circled with shadows.

Rin is sitting in a chair near the door to the office; Haruka sneaks a look at him from under his fringe and bites his lip. Rin is smoldering, arms crossed, his hands closed tightly around his arms.

“We’ll start your sessions next week,” Ryuugazaki-sensei says finally, smiling a little and looking very much like his son. Haruka slides off the bed and into his shoes.

“Don’t look so worried,” Ryuugazaki-sensei continues, “you’ve got a good chance and great people looking out for you.” He gives Rin a nod, sliding his notes into Haruka’s file. “You’re going to be fine.”

He gives them a final smile – the doctor’s equivalent of a dismissal – and turns to his computer screen.

Haruka pulls his coat on, following Rin to the door.

“Thank you, sensei,” he says as he is leaving; Ryuugazaki-sensei looks up.

“Oh,” he says, looking faintly puzzled, “there’s no need to thank me. You take care now.”

Rin shuts the door with a faint click and makes off down the hall, leaving Haruka to catch up to his long-legged strides. By the time Haruka makes it to the parking lot, Rin is already unlocking the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

“Your coat’s going to get stuck in the door,” Rin says as Haruka is closing it; Haruka pulls it out of the way.

“Thank you,” he says; Rin looks straight ahead, pulling on the gearshift and reversing out of the parking space. The hand on the gearshift is shaking.

“Do you want me to drive?” Haruka asks. Rin shakes his head, closing his eyes for a brief moment and opening them again.

“It’s fine,” he says, maneuvering the car out of the parking lot and onto the road, the engine purring as, minutes later on the highway, he shifts into a higher gear. Haruka watches the trees lining either side of the highway rush backwards. The air in the enclosed space is thick, heavy, the silence almost oppressive.

Haruka says, tentatively, “I called my parents, yesterday.”

There is no reply, but Rin’s nose flares.

“They might be able to come down next month,” Haruka reaches out, hesitantly.

“Don’t, Haruka,” Rin snaps, and he pulls in a breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“You’re just – really quiet,” Haruka hears his voice break, “I – Rin, please calm down, you’re shaking – ”

“How?” Rin’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel. “How the _f*ck_ am I supposed to calm down when you look like you’re going to _f*cking_ die at any moment?”

 _He swore_ , Haruka thinks, feeling slightly lightheaded; _he never swears_. The sound of the expletive rings, a faint echo, and Rin rubs at his face with one hand.

“Rin, I’m not going to die,” Haruka tells him softly. “Not yet. Not for a while yet.”

“You don’t know that,” Rin is quieter, now, no longer shouting, but his voice is tight. “You don’t know that. If you do – if you do _leave –_ ”

“Rin, you’ll be okay, even if - ,” Haruka says, a little desperately.

“No,” Rin blinks, angrily, but fails to keep a tear from slipping from between his eyelashes and sliding down the curve of his cheek. It dangles precariously, from the line of his jaw, before dropping onto the collar of his jacket. “No, I won’t. –even – even before – I couldn’t, okay? You don’t know – you don’t know what it’s been like – getting you to be my friend was the best thing that happened to me, okay? You – oh, screw it,” and he pulls the car into the shoulder lane and puts it into neutral, fumbling for tissues.

Haruka hands them wordlessly over and waits till Rin’s finished blowing his nose.

“Done?” he asks, when Rin gives the tissue box back.

“Yeah, no thanks to you, jerk,” Rin mumbles, and suddenly it strikes Haruka that he is twenty-four years old, sitting in a car on his way back from a hospital appointment he could’ve taken a bus or the train to get to, that Rin is a two-time Olympic medalist who is, for some reason, sitting right next to him in the driver’s seat when he could be anywhere else in the world, his nose an endearing red and eyes still watery, and Haruka says, before he’s thought,

“-you know, getting to be your friend was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too,” and Rin’s eyes widen, a little disbelieving, till Haruka nods, as if to press the point, and then he adds, “and look, you’ve turned me into a sentimental sap,” and this time, Rin smiles, which leads to a lot of choked laughter, and afterwards, when they’re back on the road and Rin is driving again, left hand loose around the wheel and right cradling the gearshift, Haruka sets his hand on top of Rin’s and Rin doesn’t tell him no.

 

***

 

[ “I wish you could come to Australia with me,” Rin says, and Haruka feels a deep sense of foreboding, as they’re sitting there, around the low table in the Nanase sitting room that’s been Haruka’s home for the past month, “we could try for gold together,” and Haruka finds himself shaking his head, scooting back from the table, his chopsticks dropping from his hand, the foreboding rapidly evolving into panic.

“Haru?” Rin puts his own chopsticks down. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No,” Haruka says, “-no, Rin, please, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Can’t? You mean Australia?” Rin smiles, a different sort of smile from his usual open-faced grin; this one is fond, and a touch sad, “Hey, I know: just saying dumb things out loud again,” he says coming around the table and kneeling in front of Haruka. The hug is a little awkward, at first, till Haruka relaxes in Rin’s hold.

“Can’t have everything you want, huh?” Rin says, his breath hot against Haruka’s ear, “so when is your time gonna be up?”

“Saturday,” Haruka whispers into Rin’s hair, and Rin says,

“That’s the day after tomorrow, isn’t it? –and I’m leaving the day after.” He pulls back, and Haruka is gratified to see that his eyes are just as misty as Haruka’s feel.

The next morning Rin walks Haruka across the pier to the beach. There is next to no wind; the air is heavy with the smell of salt, and the waves that lap against the shore are lazy, sprawling up against the sand and sliding back, indolent white foam fingers trailing backward to join the ocean.

Standing at the brink, Haruka unbuttons Rin’s borrowed shirt and steps out of his jeans. He steps into the ocean, slowly, the ebb and flow of the waves tugging at his core: one step, then two, and three – until he is knee-deep, and then waist-deep, in the water. He can feel Rin’s gaze on his back; he turns, smiles, over his shoulder. Rin smiles back and nods encouragingly, hands in his pockets, chin tilted slightly upwards as if to say, _go on_.

Haruka follows the pull. The ocean rears up to meet him, water swirling around his body in a funnel that draws him into the center, and then he is dragged under, his breath catching somewhere in his throat, his eyes squeezing shut.

When he comes to, he is himself again. His tail propels him upwards; he breaks the surface in a spray of white and he can hear Rin’s delighted whoop, carried across from the sand.

“Here,” Haruka slips the sand dollar necklace from around his neck and holds it out, “I want you to keep this.”

Rin’s fingers close around the sand dollar, eyes a little starry, and he then looks at Haruka, smiling his sad little smile again.

“And what about you? What’ll you remember me by?”

“I don’t think it’ll be easy to forget you, Rin,” Haruka lifts his eyes to Rin’s face, as if to memorize the glitter in his red eyes and the quirk to his sharp-toothed grin, and the way his lower lip trembles, just a little, when he meets Haruka’s gaze.

“Goodbye, then,” Haruka says, and Rin starts to his feet.

“Wait!” he calls, and Haruka turns to look at him, standing on the beach with the discarded clothes at his feet, clutching the sand dollar around his throat. “Will I see you again?”

Haruka smiles. “Of course you will.”]

 

***

 

9.

Rin says, “Ready?”, and Haruka sits down in the chair, his back to Rin, and Rin drapes a towel around Haruka’s shoulders.

“I think so.”

“It’s better than watching it fall out little by little,” Rin says, and wonders if he is consoling Haruka or himself.

“It’s fine,” Haruka says, and Rin plugs the razor into the power outlet.

“Alright, here goes,” and he starts the razor, holding Haruka’s head steady with one hand and the razor in the other. Haruka’s hair – thick and black – falls in wisps to the ground, occasionally crackling when Rin shifts his feet. Haruka sits quietly till Rin is done; Rin switches the razor off and pulls the plug.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Haruka raise a hand, fingers running experimentally over his bare scalp, and then there is a heavy sigh. Rin watches, a little dazed, as Haruka stands up, the towel dropping to the floor.

“Haru?”

Haruka does not turn; instead, his head falls, and Rin, walking around him, sees Haruka lower his face into his hands.

“Haru – what’s wrong?” Rin attempts to pry Haruka’s hands from his face; the first two attempts are unsuccessful, and then Haruka’s wrists slacken to reveal swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks.

“Haru, you’re  - ”

“I – I’m really stupid, aren’t I?” Haruka’s breath hitches, “it’ll grow back so – ”

Rin says, “ssh – it’s okay, it’s fine,” and he pulls Haruka against him and wraps his arms around Haruka’s back, “it’s alright,” and he feels Haruka sag into him, and a trail of damp where Haruka’s wet eyelashes brush his skin, Haruka’s heartbeat pounding against his own.

The front door clatters, then, a voice calls, “I’m coming in,” and moments later Makoto appears in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a glass dish wrapped in cloth. Rin lets Haruka go slowly; Haruka turns, still leaning into Rin, and he says,

“Makoto,” his voice still stifled, and Rin watches Makoto take a deep breath and smile.

“I brought noodle soup,” he says, and then, “you look beautiful, Haru-chan.”

 

***

 

[The morning Matsuoka Rin is back in Japan he is up early, early enough to watch soft golden sunbeams shaft through the white shutters over his bedroom window and fall, in disjointed lines over the sand dollar on his dresser, glowing around the edges.

The window is open, and there is a breeze rustling the edges of the blinds and setting them a-clinking, aluminum edges tinkling in a fair imitation of a wind chime.

The breeze is a westerly wind, wafting into the room with the smell of salt and hot sun faint around its edges and Rin can’t leave the house fast enough, and when he is outside he breathes in as deep as he can and feels as though he is thirteen years old again: bright, cheerful Matsuoka Rin, dreamer, idealist, a boy who never left.

Walking along the edge of the beach – where sea meets sand and water laps at the sides of his feet across his toes and at the footprints he leaves behind, deep, methodic imprints that quickly fill and fade, he reaches into his pocket for the sand dollar.

His jeans are rolled to halfway past his calves – the wind, cool, heavy with sea-vapor and the smell of salt, combs idle fingers through his deep-red hair and whistles against his skin. The sand dollar has wedged itself into the lining of his jeans pocket; he twists his fingers to pull it free, tugging at the thin, fraying cord to free it of tangles. When he puts the cord around his neck the dollar comes to rest just below his collarbones and with every step forward it sways, back and forth, so that when his heel hits the ground, the sand dollar thunks against his chest, right over his heart.

He stands, for several moments, looking out over the gently rolling sea, at the gulls drifting along on the air-currents, at the horizon, where, a lifetime ago, he’d watched him disappear, and then Rin smiles, lifting his chin and swallowing, hard, and turns to leave, digging his toes into the sand and shoving his hands into his pockets –

-but he has barely taken two steps when someone says,

“Rin?” and Rin freezes, afraid to look – afraid that he’s misheard – and the voice repeats, “Rin, that’s you, isn’t it?”

And Rin turns to find Haruka, looking up at him from the shallows, and he is smiling.]

 

***

 

10.

When Haruka wakes up, it is to the sound of Rin’s faint breathing, and the periodic bleep of the vitals monitor. Rin is hunched over in his chair by the bed, his head resting against his forearms on the mattress, his hands curled around one of Haruka’s.

Haruka brings his other hand over, running his fingers through Rin’s hair, and idly wonders if Rin will consent to getting a haircut.

Rin shifts. Haruka catches him mutter his name, and looks over to the other chair, set by the door, where Makoto is sitting with his long legs stretched out (crossed, at the ankles), his head lolling back against the headrest and his arms folded across his chest.

There is a post-card from Nagisa on the bedside table, full of profuse apologies and promises to come visit as soon as he can, and while Haruka is contemplating the card’s typeset the door is pushed open and Rei comes inside, carrying a large brown envelope.

“My brother sent this down from Tokyo,” he says, “he said it’s for you.”

Haruka tells him, “open it,” and Rei pulls out a book. Haruka watches his eyes widen.

“Oh my God, Haruka-senpai, you wrote this?”

Haruka smiles. “You didn’t read _The Lonely Firefly_ , did you?”

“You didn’t mention you wrote,” Rei protests.

“Open it,” Haruka says, again, and Rei, nods, running a finger over the cover page, the paper crackling as he turns to the first page.

A moment of silence, and then Rei breathes, “Oh,” and “thank you, Haruka-senpai.”

“You haven’t even read the book yet,” Haruka says mildly.

Rei tells him, “If _I_ read it first, there would be a mutiny. My brother said he had a box for you, too; there are probably more copies coming.”

He pauses, and says, “besides, I think Rin-san deserves to read it first.”

“I deserve to read what first?” Rin sounds slightly groggy with sleep as he sits up, and Haruka tells him,

“The book I was writing,” and Rei hands it wordlessly over.

“ _A Drop in the Ocean_ ,” he gives Haruka a look, “I’m surprised it took you this long to write your homage to water,” he says teasingly, and Haruka narrows his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding – ,” Rin assures him, and he opens the book. Haruka, unaware of why he is suddenly nervous, watches with bated breath while Rin’s eyes rove across the page, stop, blink, widen.

“Haru,” Rin breathes, and he looks as though he’d like to say something but can’t quite decide _how_ – and he puts the book down, carefully, on the table and leans over the bed, setting one knee on the mattress, and this time, when he reaches out, Haruka makes sure to meet him half-way.

 

***

 

**_A Drop in the Ocean_ **

Written and Illustrated By Nanase Haruka

 

To Rei, thank you, for taking a chance, and never giving up

To Nagisa, thank you, for keeping the sunshine from fading away

To Makoto, thank you, for holding up our walls, when they were falling in

And to Rin: _this is my love letter to you._

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-fin.

 

 

 

 


End file.
